They Are Your Monkeys

A child gazed upon a jester, whom appeared to be in distress "Why do you seem so down, Mr. Clown?" She did request The clown gasped, for this child could easily see he was depressed He silently frowned, looking down, and then he scratched at his chest He took to himself, frantically thinking of a lie to sell For the clown had a secret that he hid very well And, he had a vast variety of methods for portrayal For this clown was exceptionally poetic, though his own books wouldn't sell Then he realized, that the truth might cause her dismay, somehow So, he would help this child laugh, until sweat dripped from her brow So, he told her not of the troublesome day, that had spun his smile around, And, he simply made up a story called "They are your monkeys now" And, as he finished the tale, his own expression, you see Was a look of pure joy! For, he had filled this child with glee! "Encore! Bravo!" The child cheered and clapped amicably And, they both continued to laugh together, uncontainably After a while, they stopped to rest, it seemed the laughing had cleared the air The clown took a small breath, wiped his brow, and then he declared "I'm not sad, child. I am fine, smile, and do not stay despaired. How could I be sad? Seeing your face turn red from my tale, shows that you cared!"" The point of this tale. Try it, and you might be amazed You can rid yourself of troubles, for just a few days Your fears, worries, and all your crappy greys If you ignore the world's negativity, your frown may float away into the haze